


if you call ‘superficial love’ “love”, then unfortunately it seems I must be a fool.

by faucer



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Other, guard & prisoner AU, guard & thief AU, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 13:29:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16893507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faucer/pseuds/faucer





	if you call ‘superficial love’ “love”, then unfortunately it seems I must be a fool.

**i.**  
betrayal doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. it’s featherlike, because you expected something like this at one point or another.  
handcuffs don’t hurt as much as you thought they did. they’re heavy, like your sentence.  
the prison’s cell doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. you can still breathe this fake aseptic air.  
solitude doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. you’re used to being alone, again.  
seeing him doesn’t hurt as much as you thought it did. — yet it does.

 **ii.**  
the way they treat you is disgusting. you spit in their face and they beat you again.  
the way they handle you during the routinely frisking is nauseating. you stay calm. but they might beat you again.  
the way you feel after is a mix of both; handprints burning fresh onto your skin. leaving fuming marks all across.  
but you shiver when it’s him roaming your figure, his fingers cold and precise. he doesn’t leave anything behind and you’re half bitter about that.

 **iii.  
** “the cat’s got your tongue?”  
that’s what they said to you in an 8-hours interrogatory, smirking. you remained silent.  
“the cat’s got your tongue?”  
that’s what you say to him in a 5-seconds glance. smirking. he remains silent.  
his LED does the speaking. red.

 **iv.  
** the first time you hear his voice is when you disobey.  
looking at his face with your tongue exposed, almost like a dog. except you’re a reptile, eyes slitted, the left one closed in a forced wink. throwing down the gauntlet. waiting for a chance to shed your crocodile’s tears down your scaly cheeks.  
you forgot what he said.

 **v.  
** the second time you hear his voice is when it’s dark.  
his temple the only light in the shadow of your four-walled confine.  
exasperated by your thrashing around the cot’s sheets he mouths a simple “why”.  
you freeze at that and your pupils get wider. surprised you pretend to sleep.

 **vi.  
** there’s a third time and a fourth too of hearing his voice.  
his mellifluous bass tone, echoing for the fifth, sixth and seventh time.  
it slowly becomes a habit.  
late night talks for an android that doesn’t need sleep and for a prisoner that will soon sleep too much.

 **vii.  
** “why” he asks once more, intimacy laced in his indifference behind the holographic bars.  
“why not” your head leaning onto the rough gray, watching the floor conjoin into a scratched corner.  
“it’s stupid” he replies, childishly huffy, trying to decipher your expression.  
“what’s the criterion for beauty?” you whisper “subjective” he hurriedly blurts out “wrong” he seems taken aback “polykleitos’ kanon” this time he’s sure he has the correct answer “bzz-bzz wrong again” you mock a sound with your teeth.

 **viii.  
** “how did the trial go?”  
you hug your knees more tightly, hushed sobs escaping your throat “bad”  
he already knew. he knows. a month went by.  
he’d like to touch your head and caress your hair.

 **ix.  
** it’s his night shift again.  
“don’t you ever get bored?”  
“don’t you?”  
he’d like to read you a book or play cards and pass the time.

 **x.  
** “are you experiencing any sign of psychosis or depression?”  
“no. would you like me to?”  
“no”  
he’s worried. how are you coping every day with the same minimalistic environment?  
his LED yellow. you both never speak about this topic again.

 **xi.  
** his duty today is to give you clean clothes, horizontal stripes.  
in your breast pocket, above the “9” written on your jacket, a tiny chocolate. bittersweet.  
“what’s this?” you chew your words and he looks away.  
“a secret.”  
“give me some brandy too, next time.”

 **xii.  
** “what’s the criterion for beauty?” he leans in, adjusting in his black leather armchair, he’s curious, he wants to understand, he needs to.  
“there’s plenty of stones but only few gems. is really one more exquisite than the other? no. rarity is what makes a thing beautiful” you spill “isn’t the same for androids?” mercilessly sneering “you, more than anyone, should get that. a lone diamond, a prototype, no mass-produced. RK900. being the rarest makes you the prettiest, isn’t this right?”  
“that’s why you stole it?” he’s left pondering.

 **xiii.  
** a glass bottle makes a ‘clink’ sound as it is set down on the ground.  
“your brandy”  
a tilt of your head in a confused state “it’s empty”.  
he smiles for the first time “it wasn’t for you.”

 **xiv.**  
he gazes at you longingly while you undress, your whole body left naked for him to stare.  
you change into his uniform.  
now it’s your turn to watch his perfectly made anatomy, chiselled in every particular.  
he changes into yours.  
a wrist encased by another hand, a light shove forward, chests pressing into each other, lips ensnared by different lips.

 **xv.**  
of course, people will notice next morning.  
but the guards’ intoxication will buy you just enough time.  
“this is where we part”  
“it seems so”  
you fleed with his scent still lingering on you.  
in the end he took the blame and all that it would entail.

no matter how many farewell kisses; their true nature is always wicked.


End file.
